


Reindeer Games & Mistletoe

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Holidays, Innuendo, Mistletoe, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17156117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: CSSS 2018 gift for everlastingcaptainswan. Killian shows up to the annual Ugly Christmas Sweater party with one that gives a whole new meaning to reindeer games...





	Reindeer Games & Mistletoe

“What in the name of all that is good and holy are those reindeer doing on your sweater?”

“What’s it look like they’re doing, Swan?”

“Like something that’ll get you kicked out of Mary Margaret’s Ugly Christmas Sweater party if she gets a good enough look.”

“Then I best make sure she doesn’t.” Killian twitched his eyebrows, earning him an eye roll from the blonde beauty before him. She turned her face in order to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her delectable lips, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid Killian catching a glimpse.

“I don’t see how you’re going to manage that,” Emma sang, “Because she’s making a beeline for you as we speak.”

Sure enough, Mary Margaret Nolan was stomping a war path towards them with her husband, and Killian’s best mate, David, not far behind. While the pixie haired woman wore an expression of thunder, her other half was trying his best to smother a laugh.

“Killian Jones! Have you lost all sense of decency? What is the meaning of… of…” her hand gestured towards the image of the two reindeer on his sweater, unable (or unwilling) to formulate the proper words that described what they were doing.

“Of what, love?” Killian asked, his brows high on his forehead with an expression of open curiosity.

“Of that! Of those! Those reindeer doing… doing…” Again the words seemed to stick in her throat. “Well, you know very well what they’re doing,” she hissed.

“You mean, playing reindeer games?” Killian goaded with a tone of innocence, causing Emma to snort into her wine glass.

“Reindeer games?” Mary Margaret shrieked. “Is that what I'm supposed to tell Leo when he asks what the reindeer on Uncle Killian’s sweater are doing.”

“Aye,” Killian replied cheekily. “Tell him they’re playing leapfrog. That’s what David did when he saw the Galapagos turtles mating at the zoo this past summer.”

“When he did what?!” exclaimed Mary Margaret, and David was no longer suppressing a laugh. Suppressing the urge to stab his best friend in the back, literally, as Killian had just done, metaphorically, would perhaps be more accurate.

While the Nolans settled their differences in parenting philosophies, Killian joined Emma who’d stepped off to the side as to avoid becoming collateral damage.

“Careful there, Swan,” Killian warned with a little extra swagger in his step. “A fellow might get the wrong impression.” He nodded to the space above her where a cluster of greenery hung over he head. While her eyes were focused upwards, Killian took a few steps closer, pressing into her personal space. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and waited for her bright green eyes to meet his before raising his brows in silent expectation.

“Indeed he would,” Emma replied, and Killian’s cocky demeanor faltered for a moment at her perceived rejection. “That is, of course, if he thinks that’s mistletoe.”

“Is it not?” Killian glanced up to study the cluster more closely, and sure enough. “Red berries.”

“Yep,” Emma confirmed. “That’s a sprig of holly, not mistletoe. Mistletoe berries are-”

“White. Yes, I know.”

“It’s a shame really,” Emma sighed dramatically.

“Oh? Why’s that, love?” His teasing bravado had gained back its confidence, making his voice drop in both volume and tone as he brought a hand up and placed it on the wall behind her, partially caging her in the alcove they were standing in.

“Because,” Emma began flirtatiously, toying with the hem of his sweater so her fingertips brushed the bare skin beneath, “if it were real mistletoe, I might kiss you.”

“Would you now?” he inquired playfully, twirling a section of her hair around his finger while trying to keep a cool facade despite how his abs kept jumping at her touch.

“Mmhmm.” Her brow arched mischievously. The little minx knew exactly was she was doing to him.

“Well, then. Perhaps, after the party is over, you’d consider coming over to my place?”

“You have mistletoe at your place, Jones?” she asked with a snort of disbelief.

“As a matter of fact.” He tucked the hair he’d been fiddling with behind her ear before leaning in to whisper, “and if you play your cards right, after I let you kiss me under the mistletoe, we might even play some reindeer games. What would you to say to that, love?”

“I say…” Her voice trailed off as her hand trailed up his chest underneath his sweater. Killian’s breath caught which luckily cut off the moan making its way up his throat from the feel of her nails scraping over his nipples and running through his chest hair. “You better have the mistletoe and the reindeer games ready for me when I get there,” she murmured into his ear before skimming her hand back down his body and lightly shoving him back so she could escape under his arm and out of the alcove.

Killian had to remain in the alcove for several moments afterward in order to gain control over himself, lest the party goers see just how _jolly_ of a mood he was in.

Having made the rounds, participated in the secret santa game, and played his guitar to accompany the now rather inebriated crowd as they butchered The Twelve Days of Christmas, and several other musical casualties, Killian said his goodbyes (and confirmed his rendezvous with Emma) then headed out the door to get ready for the real holiday festivities.

It was a dance he and Emma had been doing for several months now. Casual, easy, no strings. Neither of them interested in a relationship, and both tired of the same song and dance that was required leading up to a one night stand, not to mention the complications that might follow. Complications he and Emma had commiserated about over drinks when she saved him from a clinger earlier in the evening.

_“You see, the problem is, Swan… I’m a cuddler,” Killian confessed over the rim of his rum glass._

_“A what?”_

_“A cuddler. I like a bit of a cuddle afterwards, but it always seems to give the lass the wrong idea.”_

_“Why does that not surprise me?”_

_“What? That I’m a cuddler?”_

_“Declare it a little louder, Jones. I don’t think they heard you the next county over.”_

_“Are you insinuating that I ought to be ashamed of being a cuddler?”_

_“Well…”_

_“Well, I’m not. I like a good cuddle and I’m not afraid to admit it… I just wish I could get them to understand that once the snuggles are over, that’s it.”_

_“So they’re snuggles now? Not cuddles?”_

_“Stop mocking a man when he’s inebriated, Swan. It’s bad form.”_

_“Okay, okay. I’m sorry… you know it wouldn’t matter, right?”_

_“What wouldn’t?”_

_“Some people just can’t take a hint. Even if you weren’t a snuggler… cuddler… whatever, some of them are still going to cling. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”_

_“Oh? Care to elaborate, darling?”_

_“I don’t stay for the cuddles. I don’t stay, period. And if we’re at my place, which is a rarity, I show them the door the moment the action’s over with… and I still get clingers.”_

_“I guess we’re both just too amazing in bed for our own good, eh love?”_

_“And humble to boot.”_

_“It isn’t arrogance if it’s true.”_

_“I’m pretty sure it is… and how would I know if it’s true or not?”_

_“Only one way to find out, love.”_

And they did find out. That very night, in fact. And many, _many_ nights after that. Emma allowed Killian his cuddles when they were at his place, and Killian would see himself out before their heart rates even dropped back to normal when they were at hers. It worked for them… until it didn’t. For him anyway. It wasn’t really working for him, because he wanted more than just convenient intimacy. He wanted real intimacy, and a real relationship, and he suspected she did too, gauging on the number of nights she’d insisted they go to his place rather than hers. His place, with the cuddles, or snuggles, or whatevers… she’d even stayed the night a time or twice, falling asleep in his arms and waking the same way.

He wanted that more often. He wanted that all the time. He wanted her to want that, too. He was willing to wait for her to admit she wanted it, too. But for tonight, Killian was content with reindeer games and mistletoe with his Swan. They’d worry about the rest of it another time.

When Killian heard the knock at his door, he stripped off his sweater and jeans before answering. An amused grin of anticipation pulling at his lips as he tried to wrangle his expression into a more casual facade.

“Alright, Jones. Let’s see this mistlet-oh, my god!” Emma burst out laughing, unable to make it across the threshold without his assistance as he reached out and pulled her inside the apartment. “What… is that?”

“Can’t you tell, darling? It’s mistletoe,” Killian replied nonchalantly. “Look. It even has white berries.”

“I can see that.” Emma’s eyes were still fixed on the front of his boxer briefs. A novelty set he’d found at the mall earlier in the season which depicted a cluster of mistletoe right over the front. “I thought you said you had _actual_ mistletoe.”

“This is actual mistletoe,” Killian countered. A saucy brow raised up his forehead and he captured her bemused eyes with his heated gaze before implying, “Go on then, love. Don’t you want to kiss me under the mistletoe?”

Emma grinned, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she pushed against Killian’s chest, ushering him backwards towards his bedroom. When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, she gave a final shove that landed him flat on his back atop the bed.

“Actually, Jones,” she purred, her hands tugging at the waistband of his underwear. “I’d be delighted to kiss you under your mistletoe.”

After peeling the festive garment from his body, she took time to remove a few pieces of her own clothing, revealing a set of lacey holiday cheer beneath.

“Mmmm. A very Merry Christmas to me,” Killian hummed cheekily. “I look forward to unwrapping that later.”

“We’ll make it part of our reindeer games,” Emma replied, her hands skimming up his legs and she sank down onto her knees at the edge of the bed. “See how fast you can get it off me… with just your teeth.”

Killian’s erection, now fully engorged, bobbed when her hands reached the apex of his thighs. His head dropped back onto the bed as her nails scratched through the thatch of hair before she wrapped her hand around him. A groan fell from his lips at the feel of her tongue running up the length of his shaft, swiveling around his tip before she encased him in the hot wet haven of her mouth.

There was no witty come back, no coherent words or thoughts, only the glorious sensation of his Swan’s lips and tongue as she worked him over with practiced expertise. They say Christmas is a time of giving and receiving, and bloody hell did she know how to give, and he was only too happy to receive.

Before long the muscles in his legs and abdomen twitched and shook slightly, causing his back to arch off the bed and his hips to rock in silent plea. His hand fisted in her hair when she took him further down her throat, her nails imbedding tiny crescent shapes in to the side of his ass as her efforts seem to double in their urgency.

_Nearly there, nearly there_ , he chanted to himself. _Nearly ther-_

She released him with a soft pop and he’d never be able to replicate the sound of devastation that escaped him. His member throbbed, begging for mercy only she could give, but her only response was a wicked smirk and arched brow.

“Santa’s gonna leave you a lump of coal for being a very bad girl, Swan,” Killian grunted.

“Not when he finds out I let _Rudolph_ join in the reindeer games,” she teased, stroking his reddened length as she gave it a new moniker.

“Rudolph?” He propped himself up onto his elbows and raised his brows in feigned offense.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, unhooking her bra and shimming out of her panties.

_So much for that particular game_ , Killian mused disgruntledly. “And just who is _Rudolph_ going to be playing these reindeer games with?” he asked, his eyes raking over he nude form as she crawled onto the bed and straddled herself over him.

“Why…” Another moan reverberated from his chest, matching hers, as she rocked her hips, her wet core sliding against his cock before declaring, “ _Vixen_ , of course.”

Vixen was very good at reindeer games.

Emma’s lips sought out his, her body sinking down over him as their tongues exchanged yuletide greetings even without the traditional mistletoe. He let her set the pace, content to revel in the constricting feel of her walls around him, the heft of her breast in his palm, and the way she moaned his name. Gods, he loved the way she moaned his name.

Loved the way she screamed it even more.

“Killian?” Emma said softly as they lay in his bed later. Her tucked into his side, both of them thoroughly spent from their reindeer games.

“Hmm?” he responded languidly.

“How would you feel if we stopped with the games?”

Killian’s eyes popped open and his heart sank into his stomach. _She wanted to stop this… this… whatever they were doing?_ He removed his arm from behind her head and sat up against the headboard, cold resignation washing over him.

“If that’s what you want, Swan,” he said hollowly.

“But is it what you want?” she pressed, sitting up with the sheet covering her chest as she turned her body toward his.

“What does it matter what I want?” Killian replied with furrowed brows. “If you no longer wish to continue our enjoyable activities, then I’ll have to come to terms with that. I’m not going to insist we carry on if you wish to end things.”

“No,” Emma protested. “I didn’t mean…” She took his hand in hers and looked up at him with an expression he’d only ever hoped to see reflected back at him. “I mean, I don’t want to play games anymore, I want…” The words seemed to stick to her tongue, which poked out to wet her lips, a tell she displayed when vulnerability threatened to overwhelm her.

“What, love?” Killian pressed tenderly. “What do you want?”

“I want to be with you without the games. I want to kiss you in front of our friends without the excuse of mistletoe. I want _this_ -” she emphasized with a gesture between them, “-all the time. I want you to cuddle with me in our bed, not yours, and I always want you to always stay with me.”

Killian wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, sealing his lips against hers with rapture. “I want that too, Emma. So bloody much.”

“Really?”

“Aye, really. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured, and they settled back down beneath the covers, resuming the snuggles. “I do need you clarify one thing for me, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You said no more games… we can still play _reindeer_ games though, can’t we?” he asked saucily, with a rapscallion-esque smile covering his face.

“You bet your ass we can… _Rudolph_.”


End file.
